Flash Fiction Title : Don't Sit at My Grave and Cry

Literary Work : Flash Fiction
Title : Don't Sit at My Grave and Cry

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I took my keys out of my bag, ready to open the door of his room. Then I stopped, because I realised that Jones' door was slightly open. I silently walked forward and pipped. I heard gasps inside that room, so I quickly pushed the door open. There he was, groaning in a pool of his blood. He was coloured red with a knife firmly immersed in his chest. I looked at his eyes, they were turning white already.

Stay with me Jones, you're fine... hold on, i'm gonna get you help, I said to him. Susan, leave here now. They'll be back", he begged me, with his last breath rushing out of him and his voice fading along with it. Then his heart stopped pumping blood. I could feel needles running through my veins, and anger turning my eyes red.

I got up, opened the briefcase beside him, and took out the letter there. It had a razor attached to it and I surely recognised it's meaning. Next, I saw a gun in his palms and wanted to reach for it when I heard a car drive in and a couple of men jumping off it. Quickly, I picked the letter and hid myself behind the cupboard.

She was here, one of them said boldly. If she has left, she won't be far off, another insisted. I didn't have problems breathing silently, I guess I had already stopped breathing long ago. Soon, they picked up the briefcase and left.

This memory kept playing back in my mind as I sat beside Jones' grave, weeping over him.
There are things I have always wanted to tell him, things I never had a chance to, so I wrote letters I wanted him to read and put them in a bag.

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Before long, I felt a soft tap behind me, but I could no longer see clearly, except when my eyes are closed. Smiles overwhelmed me, I was glad that Jones was standing right in front of me. Yet, I couldn't feel my tongue in my mouth. All I did was stare and listen!

Predict tomorrow and today will surprise you" were his first words. It wasn't what I wanted to hear, but there was hardly a way to communicate. Don't sit at my grave and cry Susan' he continues, 'cheer up, for you have a life after me. You'll always fail in your attempt to please everyone. Hold on to your hope, but expect anything but a realisation of your dreams in this world. No matter how bright the sun shines, night will fall. I can only hope that we will meet again.

The process reversed, but I kept my eyes shut, I seriously needed to say something or simply hand him this bag. Neither was possible, nor ever will be!

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